


Off and Racing

by twistedrunes



Series: George [4]
Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Chases, F/M, Gen, Gun Violence, Guns, Gunshot Wounds, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Language, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 08:12:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16950288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twistedrunes/pseuds/twistedrunes
Summary: George takes a trip to Camden with Alfie Solomons. On the way, Alfie reveals he knows far more about George than George realises.





	Off and Racing

“George!” You hear Alfie’s familiar voice boom out across the factory floor. 

You turn towards him, wiping your hands off with a rag. Tommy is standing next to him, hands shoved in his pockets, cigarette hanging from his lips, hard eyes fixed on you as always. You have barely seen each other, let alone spoken since your departure from Arrow House. “Good to see you again Mr Solomons.” You say extending your hand towards Alfie. He accepts your hand and shakes it while he casts his eye around your workshop. You smile and nod at Ollie standing off behind his boss.

Tommy finally speaks “Show Alfie what you’ve been working on.”

Your face lights up as you unwrap your latest piece of work, you stand aside to allow Tommy and Alfie access. “Basically, it’s a shotgun, cut down with a grip more like a pistol” you explain caressing the smooth wood in your hand. You hand Alfie the gun, he tests its weight. “It’s not great at a distance but up close it does a lot of damage.” You can’t help but smile remembering Michael, John and Arthur’s enthusiasm for your work when it nearly ripped a pig carcass in two.

“Well, that’s a fucking lovely thing,” Alfie comments to Tommy, putting the gun back on the work surface.

“Take it,” Tommy says to him. You open your mouth to object but Tommy stares you down “It is ready isn’t it George?” 

“Yes, Mr Shelby.” You agree before snapping your mouth shut. Alfie smiles and slips the weapon into the pocket of his coat.

“You’ll be going to Camden, with Alfie, for a few days. He has some work he needs doing.” Tommy instructs.

“Yes, Mr Shelby.” You nod. Tommy is already walking away and you hesitate unsure if you are meant to follow or not.

Alfie puts his hand on your shoulder “Few more things to sort out with Tommy first. I’ll send Ollie to collect you when we’re done. Yeah?”

“Thank you, Mr Solomons.” You reply with a smile.

\---------------

Michael comes into your workshop as you are cleaning up to go home and pack. “You heading home?” You ask surprised. Michael gave you a lift home when he was finished early enough but that was rare, usually only when you had worked back late yourself.

“No.” He replies leaning against the doorframe. “So, you’re off to Camden Town.” He states with a barely contained mirth. “I hear Alfie is a bit of a ladies man.” He teases.  

“Do ya now?” You shoot back “Might me I get a bit of action myself then hey? Cast-offs perhaps.” You bait him.

Michael laughs “Yeah well before you run off, Tommy wants to see you in his office.” You sigh and follow Michael up to the office, standing in the doorway as Michael announces you and Tommy hands him a seemingly unending list of chores to complete.

“Sit down,” Tommy instructs you by way of dismissing Michael. You and Michael smile at each other as you pass by. You sit in the chair across from Tommy.

“Alfie wants you to look at some merchandise. If you give the go ahead, we’ll be part of the deal too.” Tommy begins, still flicking through the papers on his desk. You realise he rarely speaks to you without something else to hold his attention.

“Anything, in particular, you want me to look into?” You ask, pulling a cigarette from your case and tapping it against the lid.

“No.” He responds ceasing his paperwork and walking around his desk. He pulls his lighter from his pocket and ducks down to hold the flame to the tip of your cigarette.

You nod in thanks, Tommy straightens and stands next to you, facing in the opposite direction. He places his hand on your shoulder. You can’t work out if the move is protective or threatening. You wait for him to speak, but he says nothing. You hang your head back drawing the smoke deeply into your lungs, looking up at him. Trying to read his face. But as always there is nothing there to read but hardness. You feel the pressure of Tommy’s hand lift swiftly and you wonder if he is going to hit you. Instead, he rubs it through his hair as he turns away from you, looking out the window. You stand “If there is nothing else? I’ll get going.”

Tommy nods “Go.” He says, his attention focused on something on the other side of the glass. You have your hand on the door when you hear him ask “What’s your real name?” You turn regarding his figure leaning against the wall. You consider the purpose of his question. Leverage or interest? He turns his face towards you as you think. His eyes showing his irritation at your hesitation.

“George, Mr Shelby, George Hunter.” You say as you open the door and walk away, not daring to look back.

\---------------

“I’m off.” You call out to Polly and Finn as you grab your bag and pull your cap onto your head. You smile at Ollie remembering your conversations with nearly every member of the extended Shelby clan telling you to shoot Alfie if he tried anything. Arthur, in particular, was very put out that Tommy was allowing you to go.

Alfie is seated on the back seat absorbed in some paperwork. He looks up over the top of his glasses as you climb in. “Ah, I see you’re a proper Blinder now.” He comments.

“Yes, Mr Solomons.” You reply, unsure of what he’s implying. Alfie says nothing more returning his attention to his papers. You look out the window.

“That gun you made, fucking lovely it is.” Alfie compliments you suddenly.

“Thank you.”

“Workmanship of someone much older, more experienced, than yourself.” Alfie continues. Plucking his glasses from his nose and allowing them to hang from the chain around his neck. His gaze now focused solely on you. You swallow hard. “Excellent really considering how your apprenticeship was interrupted by the war and all.”

Your heart stops dead in your chest. Meanwhile, your brain was whirling, scrambling to have answers to the questions you know are coming. Alfie lets the silence hang between you, raising his glasses briefly as he casts his eye over the page in front of him as if he is confirming a piece of information. He turns his body towards you, arm resting along the back of the seat. You stay mute. Reminding yourself he hasn’t actually asked you a question or revealed that anything he knows isn’t just a reasonable assumption.  “Thank you, Mr Solomons.” You repeat. You notice the slight twitch at the corner of Alfie’s mouth. Is he amused by you? Or giving you enough rope to hang yourself?

“Unfortunate, though, that your poor mother was told you were dead when ya weren’t? Poor woman must’a died of shock when ya came strolling in the door.” Alfie continues casually.

_FUCK_

“Shame too that the man you were apprenticed to died. Would have been good to come back to a good job, rather than having to work for the Shelby’s.” Alfie’s tone is light but he holds you trapped in his gaze. You have to look away, thankful for the distraction of his fingers scratching through his beard. “Strange business that. Man shot dead in his own home, daughter missing. His bookie lying half dead, bullet through his chest. Very strange indeed.”

_FUCK FUCK FUCK_

_Victor is alive._

It’s a trap you realise desperately. Alfie is taking you back. There is no weapons deal. He’s going to kill you. Fucking Tommy let him take you. You consider jumping from the car, but there is nowhere to go. Suddenly the truth hits you, Tommy gave you to Alfie.

Alfie slides across the seat so his arm is wrapped around your shoulders. You feel like you’re drowning, sinking into the cold depths of his eyes. His face so close to yours you feel he is sucking the air from your lungs with his every inhalation. “So what happened to Anna?” He asks.  

Alfie leans back slightly and you gasp for breath. Your heart is now racing, but your brain has stopped. Unable to perform any function other than breathing and blinking. Alfie keeps staring at you. Your brain works just long enough to wonder whose gaze is the most intimidating Tommy or Alfie’s.

“I asked you a question.” Alfie reminds you.

“I had to get away.” The words are out of your mouth before you have thought them. You slap your hand over your mouth in surprise. Alfie nods. You suck breath noisily through your nose, not trusting yourself to remove your hand.

Alfie glances out the window over your shoulder. “I need a piss.” He says as he plants his foot on the floor and slides back to his side of the car. The car begins to slow. They’re going to kill you here, you decide looking out over the desolate fields. The car hasn’t stopped when you throw yourself out, no longer caring there is nowhere to go. You hit the ground hard but are on your feet in a moment and sprinting in the opposite direction of the car. “The fuck?” You hear Alfie’s roar behind you. “Ollie!” He yells with his next breath.

You run hard. Trying to ignore the pain in the ribs from where you landed. You can hear footsteps pounding behind you. Too light, you decide to be Alfie’s. You hear an engine roaring alongside you and look across to see Alfie, face set in fierce determination. He doesn’t look at you as the car pulls away. You glance over your shoulder to see where Ollie is, by the time you turn your head back it’s too late and the car is blocking your path and you crash into it. You fly backwards and land on your ass, your cap falling into the dirt. You roll over pushing yourself to your feet again. Strong arms wrap around you and lift you off the ground. You scream and trash trying to break free.

“Grab ‘er feet, Ollie.” You hear Alfie yell. Immediately you are unable to move your legs. As hard as you fight they resist you. They bundle you into the car, Alfie climbing in backwards so as not to release you. Ollie releases your legs, slamming the door shut and runs around the car and begins driving again. You thrash and kick against the door. Alfie grunts and in a moment is on top of you, your hands pinned above your head with one of his hands as he fumbles with his belt with the other. 

You begin to fight harder. Panic rising in you. Alfie releases your hands as he turns to wrap the belt around your ankles, pulling it tight. You lash out with your hands clawing and punching at any piece of Alfie you can reach. Alfie doesn’t react, not turning back until your legs are tightly bound. He easily recaptures your hands and leans forward, forcing your hands above your head again.

Alfie lowers his face so it is above yours. You spit in his face. He turns and wipes his face on his lapel. “So what the fuck was all that in aid of?” He asks his weight pressing against your abdomen.

You glare at him “I’m not going just let ya fucking kill me am I?” You yell in response.

Alfie looks at you, then to the back of Ollie’s head and then back to you again “Kill ya?” he asks.

“For Victor or Sabini or Tommy.” You yell, gasping for breath, Alfie’s weight stopping you from getting the full breath you are so desperate for.

Alfie drops his head to the side, looking at you. He scratches his fingers through his beard. You realise he is breathing heavily too. You decide you are not above begging. “Please Alfie, just let me go. I’ll go to Scotland, Europe, Australia, I’ll never come back. No one will know.” You beg, cursing yourself as tears well in your eyes.

You feel Alfie shift, wincing as he arches his back. “I don’t do contract work.” He says. You look at him blankly not understanding what he’s saying. “I’m not going to kill you.” He explains. You glance to Ollie. Alfie sighs “Ollie isn’t going to kill you either.” He leans back again, letting go of your wrists and loosening his belt from your ankles. Finally, he lifts himself onto his knees and moves backwards allowing you to wriggle out from under him, you tuck yourself up into the corner of the car. “And now, if you can manage to stay put, I’m going to take a piss. Yeah?” He says gruffly.

Your brain finally begins to calm down. But you’re still breathing heavily when Alfie climbs back into the car with you. He looks you up and down before reaching out and taking your hand in his. It’s not threatening, more a fatherly gesture. “So tell me what happened, Anna.”

You wince at the sound of the name you haven’t heard in over a year. Not that anyone used it much before then. Girl, bitch, whore and cunt were the names you usually referred to by.  You hang your head back against the seat and rub your free hand over your eyes. Alfie squeezes your hand lightly “Maybe start with who the fuck is Victor?”

“It’s like you said, Victor was my father’s bookie.” Alfie nods and waits, absently caressing the back of your hand with his thumb. “And my pimp.” You sigh.

“Cunt.” Alfie spits. You hang your head, chewing on your lip to stop the tears. Alfie squeezes your hand “Not you. Him.” You smile, in spite of yourself. “Come on, tell me all about it.” Alfie encourages.

“My father was a drunk and degenerate gambler. When I was young he managed to just keep his hand steady enough to bring in enough money to cover his debts. But as he started to drink more, his work got shoddy and he began to have trouble covering his debts. At first, I was able to do the work myself to cover for him, but with more time on his hands he gambled and drank more and within a couple of years I couldn’t cover the debt.”

You pause lighting a cigarette, watching the smoke get caught in the breeze and sucked out the window and into nothingness. “Anyway, one day Victor came to collect, I was probably fourteen at the time, and we didn’t have the money. My father offered me as payment. For a while, anytime father lost Victor would collect from me. Victor was smart though, he still took the takings from the shop and used them to pay any wins. Then one day Victor brought someone with him to collect. Then the next time a few more men came with him and then that was it; open house.”

“What about your ma?” Alfie asks.

“Beaten to death by my father. I was only small, four or maybe five, but I remember the noise when he was beating her and then she fell down the stairs and everything was quiet.” Alfie slid across the car again, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pulling to you him. You stay still for a moment listening to the smooth rhythm of his heart.

“And George?” Alfie asks quietly.

Tears begin to sting your eyes and you wipe your face furiously. “He was the apprentice. He’s the one who taught me how to shoot. We were going to run away together.” You whisper into Alfie’s chest.

“Mm, hm.” Alfie pats your head.  

“He was really the most handsome boy.” You say lifting your head to look at Alfie. “And the gentlest soul you could ever hope to meet. He joined up to be a medic, he wanted to save lives.”

“Sounds like a fine lad,” Alfie assures you. “So what happened for you to run away without him?”

You swallow hard, pulling yourself from Alfie’s embrace. “It was the day I found out George had died. His mother hated me, so she didn’t tell me. But I saw his sister in the street and overhead someone giving her condolences. Anyway, I went home and Victor was waiting for me. He was furious that he had to wait and he started beating me. I mean he’d done it a million times, but never actually in front of my father. And he did nothing. Once Victor had finished, he fucked me on the stairs with my father sitting in the lounge room only a few yards away. Then they sent me to buy whiskey. So I went to the stash of guns George and I had been saving to pay for our getaway and got a gun. I shot my father first. Which was a mistake because Victor managed to get a shot off, it got me in the gut. I fell to the floor. I played dead and he sat in my house, drinking the whiskey I paid for. After a while, he fell asleep and I shot him. Then I just ran. I thought I had killed both of them.”

“Right,” Alfie said processing what he had just heard. “So why did you think Sabini wanted to kill you?”

“Victor said he was part of his gang.” 

“Right. And Tommy?”

“Because I’d caused trouble with Sabini. I lied. I don’t know.” You look down at your hands. You realise the car has stopped. You look around you trying to orient yourself.

Alfie gestures to the house you’re parked in front of “My cousin’s guest house. You’ll be staying here while you’re working for me. Is that okay?”

“Yes.” You nod.

“Right. Now you get a good night’s sleep. Ollie will pick you up in the morning and tomorrow we will talk about how to fix this business. Yeah?” You nod stepping out of the car.

“George,” Ollie says “Don’t forget your cap.” He holds your cap out the window. Shaking it to dislodge the dirt.

“Thank you, Ollie.” You reply squeezing his hand as you retrieve your cap. 

“Come on then let’s introduce ya.” Alfie says, dropping his heavy hand on your shoulder. 


End file.
